


That DADT Thing

by Muffie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, DADT Repeal, Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffie/pseuds/Muffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DADT will soon be repealed, freeing John for the relationships that Rodney knows they both want. But there is a difference between what the new regs say and the unwritten rules that are enforced. Perhaps they must wait until some kind of <i>later</i>, when the unwritten rules change, too. But then, Rodney has never been good at waiting, not when he has a plan. [First Posted: March 16, 2011]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the San Francisco Bay

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-season 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlantis has been hanging out in San Fran Bay for a while. The US Congress gets around to dealing with Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Rodney figures out that the hottie brainiac he deserves for being his glorious self isn't necessarily blonde. Or even female.

The thing about having the city on Earth was that the news wasn't filtered by someone's criteria of what's important and what's not. The whole idiotic political bickering about Don't Ask, Don't Tell had consumed the city since the headlines about the committee someone had created to study how to get rid of it landed. Politicians on both sides of the issue had bellowed back and forth. Pundits had argued it over it. Comedians had made fun of it. The military personnel on base had all taken sides and spent more time trying to decide one, if the draconian policy needed to go, and two, who, in the city, would benefit. Rodney was, of course, above such things. He had made it very, very clear to his minions that he didn't want to hear a word about it. _Science_ mattered, not the blitherings of moronic politicians and their military stooges. Stumble-whatever, the microbiologist, would have to keep it in his pants, and quit spending more time wondering which marine or airman he'd do first. Rodney had berated him regularly, just to make sure everyone knew that the labs meant business, not wedding planning. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that the top of Stein-whatever's list usually held the colonel. Absolutely not. Maintaining order had always been what it was all about.

Months after the entire ridiculousness had turned America and everyone in that backwards, Puritanical nation into idiots that had nothing else to worry about, the report had hit not only their congress, but the public. He'd had to send everyone back to quarters that day, except for himself and Radek. They had been, apparently, the only two able to think. Kusanagi wouldn't have had to be grounded, like a child, but she had been off in Japan doing who knows what for some pathetic family reason. She was on the cutting edge of research! There was no time to travel halfway around the world on an _airplane_ with all of the backwards Newtownian physics that encompassed. He'd told her, repeatedly, that San Francisco had an international airport and hotels everywhere. They could come here. She'd smiled, kissed his cheek (and that was both weird and disconcerting), before bowing and leaving every time he'd brought it up. And then she'd left. Left!

The arguments from the American capital had rolled over Atlantis like every other soap opera. More people on the city watched more of the government access channel than they'd ever done in their lives. Collectively. The marine general and MacDonald from whatever state (honestly, these people were barely civilized), had spent most of the time saying that the report didn't matter, and openly gay people in the service would bring about the end of the world and kill fluffy kittens while everyone was at it. They had been almost unanimously booed on the city. Rodney wasn't the least bit surprised that the vast majority openly supported the repeal. A few rabble-rousers were against it, of course, but he'd noted during his forays for real food in the mess that there were fewer and fewer of those voices every time. Not that he could be bothered to figure out if they were either changing their minds or getting transferred.

Christmas had started looming about then. In the beginning of December, he'd forced Sheppard to go with him and Jennifer to San Francisco to pick out gifts for Jeannie, Madison, and the _English_ professor. If that ridiculous marine general and the idiot Magoo senator wanted to stop the end of the world, they'd replace _English_ professors with physics or engineering. Surely Jeannie's not-quite-a-trophy husband could do enough math to do civil engineering, or something. He had fingers and toes to count on. Sheppard had looked amused while he had explained this particular view and all the positive ramifications of redirecting their energy to an actual worthwhile cause. Jennifer had listened for a little over a minute, then shut him down and "redirected" his energy into figuring out what to get the _English_ professor. She had immediately vetoed a text on engineering. Sheppard had helped him pick up a vintage copy of Beatles vinyl (apparently the _English_ professor was a fan. Huh. Who knew?) and then a book with logic puzzles, decadently expensive coffee, and chocolate for Jeannie. The scent of the coffee had thoroughly derailed him. Jennifer had thought some perfume would be more appropriate. Honestly. Coffee _was_ perfume. He had doubled the order Sheppard had suggested, and then quadrupled it to get some for himself. The toy store had been something of a nightmare. There had been pink everywhere, and these ridiculous robots that transformed into sports cars and could apparently walk on two legs. He'd refused, on well founded principle, to get any of that for Madison. Jennifer had picked out a few age-appropriate stuffed animals while he and Sheppard had argued over the physics and chemistry kits. Sheppard, the traitor, had voted for chemistry. Sheppard had claimed that any kid with half of Madison's "smarts" would be all over making goop with experiments. Not that the physics kit wouldn't be fun because electricity! Magnets! But the chemistry kit would teach her to use the scientific method a bit better than the physics kit simply because of the margin for error. Rodney had decided to dip into his coffee budget to get both. He'd deliberately ignored the fact that he'd spent nearly half of his Christmas budget on coffee for himself. Once Sheppard had pointed that little tidbit out enough that he couldn't pretend he didn't know that, he'd caved enough to get the stuffed koala Jennifer had picked out, even though there was no math involved.

Jennifer had broken up with him the next day. She was going to take a job in Chicago and now, he was no longer invited to go with her. Not that he would have. Atlantis here! Not even a cush job that she thought he could get at Northwestern or Loyola could compete. No way. Atlantis was the cutting edge of physics. He'd convince Sheppard to steal it for him before he'd leave it. He'd always known his interpersonal communication skills were minimal, at best, simply because he had no interest in developing them. Never had, never would. Still, he figured he'd been clear enough that Atlantis wouldn't survive without him and coming back to Earth not only hadn't changed that, but probably made his presence even more important. Who knew what these incompetents would do to the city without him? Jennifer was gone two weeks later. Rodney hadn't known she was gone for a week, but stupidly enough, he'd mentioned that fact to Sheppard, who'd shook his head and claimed that he wasn't surprised.

All Rodney had noticed was that the stupid argument of Don't Ask, Don't Tell was mostly over. It had been repealed and signed into law by Olabama, or whatever. The city had gotten quiet about the issue for two days, then exploded with plans. Sturgleblah-whatever had been beside himself with joy. Rodney didn't get to fire him before he went on leave to visit his family, no doubt products of generations of incestuous relations. Nothing else could explain the stupidity. Sometime within the next six months, however, the new rules would go into effect for the American military.

Rodney blamed his lack of interpersonal skills for the fact that it took him nearly two weeks to figure out what this all meant for him personally, beyond having to redouble his efforts to keep his minions' minds on task. Then he blamed Sheppard. The man had decided, out of the blue, to take Christmas leave to visit his family, which he hadn't spoken to or cared to speak to for years. He didn't figure it out until after Sheppard had returned, and he'd gotten back from a brief visit with Jeannie, who had spent most of his time with her family trying to make significant eye contact and who he'd spent most of his time with her family avoiding being alone in a room with because she obviously wanted to _talk_ and there wouldn't be math involved. Her loaded and somewhat sarcastic remarks about Sheppard's absence and the Don't Ask, Don't Tell business didn't make him want to talk to her any more than he already did. So, maybe she started it. He could blame her for it.

He'd figured it out, though, what the repeal meant for him personally. His longest relationship, of any kind, ever, had been with Sheppard. It was longer and deeper than his relationship with his sister, and he'd grown up with the woman. He thought back over the entire time he'd known Sheppard, and came to the conclusion that maybe he was Sheppard's longest and deepest relationship, too. The man may have talked the Kirk talk, but he hadn't actually walked it. Yeah, there were a few alien women here and there. Teevee or whatever her name was in the time dilation field. Chaya the ascended hussy. Maybe someone else. But these women had been more like one night stands. Sheppard _always_ went to bed alone. He _always_ ate dinner with Rodney, unless Rodney was actually on a date, in which case, Sheppard was either alone or with the team. Teyla had told him once, a long time ago, that Sheppard ate alone when he was dating Katie Brown, unless she was there. Or Ronon.

Rodney loved hot blondes with hot breasts and even hotter brains. Sam Carter and Jennifer proved that. He'd loved Katie, too, sort of. She wasn't blonde and her brains, frankly, were rather lacking. She was smart enough, but not _smart enough_. He fell in love with brains first and body second. Of course, he was a normal man. He fell in lust with the body first. It got him into trouble sometimes. He'd always known that about himself. It was just that the brains usually weren't worth the effort and risk unless the body was. Sheppard had the perfect brain. It was smart, snarky, liked the same things he liked, and actually seemed to like him back. If Sheppard had looked like Sam Carter, they would probably have been married that first year. What was even more startling than that was that he could see Sheppard agreeing with him on that. If they had been male and female, instead of male and male, they'd be celebrating an anniversary. In fact, after Rodney had thought about it for a while, when he looked back over their relationship, Rodney had had the two girlfriends, but for Sheppard, Rodney kind of was the girlfriend. Only without the girlfriend relationship. Or the girl. Maybe that was why he always called him colonel or Sheppard. Because John was too personal. Too intimate. He was never a stupid man. He knew Sheppard was off limits, completely. Once he started respecting the man, that didn't change. So he didn't change the way he thought about Sheppard. Maybe if he'd slipped and called him John regularly in the early years in Pegasus things would have been different.

No, no they wouldn't have. Sheppard took his commitments seriously. If he disobeyed orders or regulations, it was to save other people. He had to have an honorable reason for it. Sheppard would never have ignored regulations for himself. But in a few months, the regulations were changing. In a few months, Slutsinbum-whatever would be all over the colonel. No. That wouldn't happen. Rodney wouldn't let it. If Sheppard, no _John_ was interested, Rodney would have him first. Sheppard, _John_ would be his. It was his due, after all. He saved them all from certain doom for years. It was only right that he have the best. And that was Sh- _John_. John. It was right. Because John was smart _and_ hot. He'd done the love thing first and then the lust, which is where he got into trouble most of the time, doing lust before love. He didn't require respect in that kind of relationship, but even so, it never went anywhere.

All of this sent him directly to Sh-John's door. Everything from the first whiny opinion on the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell way back in August, until now, when he'd figured it out. It was early, a few hours before oh-dark-thirty. No one was actually up and around beyond the night watch. He'd grabbed a piece of ancient tech, just in case he needed an excuse. That idiot Don't Ask, Don't Tell hadn't actually been removed from the regulations just yet. That tech, clutched in his hand, and thoughts of a maybe that might be even better than all of the theory behind the tech in his hand, had carried him to Sh-John's door. _John's_ door. He tried to decide if he should knock or just barge in. He decided to knock because really, nothing had changed yet. It would, but it hadn't yet.

It took John forever to open the door. His hair was standing every which way and his pants barely covered his underpants. Rodney forced himself not to blush when he noticed that John wasn't wearing a shirt. Well, mostly forced.

"Rodney?"

"John." 

John frowned and scratched his head. "You only ever say my name when you want to kill me."

"I do not. Can I come in?" He jiggled the ancient tech around visibly, so any too-nosy passers-by could see it, and so could the security cameras.

"You need my help with that?"

"Well, no, but if anyone asks, I have a reason to be here."

John blinked at him for entirely too long, then sighed and stepped back. Rodney marched into his room, suddenly aware how this room, Sheppard's room, was more familiar to him than Jennifer's ever had been. Right. This was right.

He squared his shoulders and faced John. "You know I've never been very good at the man-woman thing. I've never had time for ridiculous courtship rituals or trying to learn to speak woman, a language that no man can hope to decipher. So, I'll just say up front that I'm a blunt man."

John lounged against a wall with his weight on one foot, hands in his pockets, and legs crossed at the ankles. 

Rodney spent a moment testing this in his hotness barometer. Yup. It was hot.

"I would never have guess that about you, Rodney."

Rodney flapped the hand that wasn't holding the ancient tech. "Very funny, Colonel Cow Lick. Look. I'm not good at the man woman stuff, okay? So can we just take that as a given?"

"Sure. If it'll get you to the point faster."

"Right. That being said, I think I still have a lot to offer in a relationship. My interpersonal skills are hardly important considering that I'm brilliant, fun to be with, and I've saved us all hundreds of times."

John scratched one of his elbows. His face pulled a frown, like he'd eaten a rotting lemon. "You found the next Mrs. McKay? Jennifer's only been gone a month."

"Oh, ha ha. You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't."

Rodney frowned. "Fine, play it your way. I figure that if you'd been a smoking hot woman instead of a guy, we would have been as good as married somewhere in the first year."

John stood straight. "Whoa, _what_?"

Rodney flapped his hand again. "Oh, you know it's true. You know you're smoking hot as a guy, so your hotness isn't an issue. And you're certainly smart enough, Colonel Should Be in Mensa!"

"Rodney, are you—"

"You're the best relationship I ever had. Longest lasting one, too. I'm not 100% certain, but I believe that an 82% probability is fairly accurate."

"82—"

"That I'm the best relationship you've ever had."

John rubbed his hands over his face and sighed all the way from his toes. "Rodney—"

"I realize that nothing can be done about it right now, with the Spanish Inquisition style practices of your country's current military mindset, but that will change soon enough."

"Rodney—"

"I thought about it for a while," Rodney said. "Why Jennifer broke up with me. Why I didn't even notice she was gone. Why a lot of things. I loved her because she was convenient for that. I couldn't have you so I settled. Granted, she hot and she's brilliant, besides her choice to practice a soft science, but at least she could have spent her time keeping me healthy."

"Ro—"

"I don't have to settle anymore. I deserve the best and that's you." Rodney looked up John, hoping he didn't look anywhere near as vulnerable as he felt. Like everything depended on John, and John had a hockey stick that he'd either hit Rodney with or would use to be on Rodney's side. Like a pair of enforcers protecting their team.

"Oh, Rodney," John breathed out.

"I love you. I think I always have. It didn't occur to me to lust after you, too, because," Rodney flapped his hand again, "you couldn't. And all of the data points to, well, that you do, too."

John sat on the bed and grabbed the hand without the ancient tech. He tugged Rodney down with him. With a start, Rodney realized that this wasn't the first time they'd been this close physically. Not even the second or third. He'd felt John's body heat beside him more times than he could remember. More times than he'd felt Jennifer's. Mostly in intense, end-of-the-universe situations, but still. He didn't think John ever got that close to Ronan or Teyla that often. Just him. Rodney.

"DADT is going to be over soon. You're not wrong about that. It's going to open up a lot for most of the people in the military."

Rodney frowned. "Most?"

"Do you honestly think that kind of thinking is going to go away, Rodney?"

"Well, there will be rules." Of course there would be. Rules just made sense.

"I know. There would be rules that would prevent discharge and even discrimination because of sexuality. For most people."

Rodney's heart froze. If he didn't know better, he'd think he was having a heart attack. "But you don't think it would be for you."

"I'm in command. There are enough people out there that don't like it. They'd take Atlantis away from me. Send me some place else. I'd find myself riding a desk in the Pentagon or something. I wouldn't be able to prove discrimination because they'd promote me into a shit job. I've been in command of Atlantis for a long time, by Air Force standards. The mission dictates that. Hammond held command of the SGC for years after it should have been passed on. I'll be here for a long time, as long as I don't fuck up."

"But the repeal...."

"It doesn't change the way the upper brass feel. You saw them. They're against it. If I didn't have command, and me being in command didn't matter so much, it would be different. But I am in command and me being here does matter."

"But—"

"If we have that kind of relationship, I would lose Atlantis. If you wanted that kind of relationship with me, you'd have to leave Atlantis. They wouldn't let me stay here."

Rodney stared at the ancient tech in his hand. He wanted to sneer and tell Jo-Sheppard that he was wrong, that of course they wouldn't do that, but he knew that Jo-Sheppard was right. Even with his crappy interpersonal skills, he knew that people who didn't tolerate and actively undermined gay people, or anyone different, didn't change just because the rules did. They just got sneakier about it. Politics wasn't like science. Just because new data changed the theory and the rules, didn't mean that it changed people at all. Rodney wanted to be able to yell and argue with John, until John saw it his way. "You didn't disagree with me," he said instead.

"We can't—"

"About the love thing."

Jo-Sheppard didn't say anything. 

It was silent in the room. The hum of Atlantis was there, of course, as was the sound of the ocean beyond the city. The heat of John's body almost had its own sound, like heartbeat and endothermic homeostasis. At this moment, Rodney never felt closer to another being, human or cat. Not even Jennifer when he'd been inside her, thinking he loved her enough. Or his cat, who sometimes seemed like the only creature besides him that cared about anything but themselves. He never wanted to give this up. He wanted to go shopping for presents for Jeannie, Madison, and the _English_ professor with John again. But this time, he wanted to hold John's hand, not Jennifer's. Because it was John.

"No," John said, almost too quiet to hear, "I didn't disagree with you."

Rodney decided he wouldn't cry. "I love you, John."

John's hand, curled around his, tightened so much bones shifted. John's body was tense and quivering, like he was holding himself back.

"I understand," Rodney said, looking down at their clasped hands. "I am a genius."

"Yeah, you are." Jo-Sheppard's voice sounded watery. Rodney didn't know, he refused to look at anything but their hands.

"I _will_ figure something out. You're not just the guy I love, you're my best friend." Rodney rubbed his thumb over John's. "I'm not going to let you go."

"You're mine, too, buddy." John shoulder bumped him gently. "Maybe, in a while, after we see what happens. Maybe."

Rodney snorted. "No, you're right. Those assholes in charge of your stupid military aren't going to change no matter what the rules say. And you're right. You're too important to Atlantis. I don't trust anyone else with my city."

"I won't be here forever, McKay."

Rodney flapped his free hand. "Shut up. I will figure it out. I will."

John stood and tugged him to his feet. "I think you should go now. I'll see you at breakfast, okay? Just because we can't," John waved a hand, "doesn't mean you're not my best friend anymore. Nothing has changed, right?"

Rodney tried his best to smile. "Right."

John barely managed to smile back, if the twist of his lips was anything to go by. John tugged him over the to the door, stopping right next to it. Rodney thought about saying something, but the look in John's eyes, intense and powerful, shut him up. John slowly lifted their clasp hands. John kissed him, right on the back of the hand, then let go.

"I love you, John. Always have," Rodney said, for the _third_ time. Not that he was keeping count. "I will figure something out. "

"You're the genius around here."

Rodney looked down at his hand, still tingling from John's kiss, then back up at John, who had this eerie fond look on his face. "I have lips, too."

"We can't." John's door shot open. "See you at breakfast, buddy."

"John—"

John shook his head.

Rodney nodded sharply. "Breakfast. If I'm late, save me a chocolate chip muffin, Sheppard. That new engineer, Maynard—"

"Dr. Meyer."

"Whatever. Mabel steals them all if she gets there first."

John rolled his eyes. "I'll save you a muffin. Good night, Rodney."

Rodney felt lost for a moment. "Good night, colonel."

John pushed him into the hallway. "Hey, Rodney."

Rodney clutched the ancient tech to his chest. "What?"

John smiled. "I love you, too. Always have."

The door closed.


	2. In Pegasus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atlantis has been back in Pegasus for almost a year and nothing has changed aside from the scenery. And then everything changes, and yet nothing changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post-season 5. 3 years after That DADT Thing 1

Few things had ever been difficult, and not just on an intellectual level. For example, most people found telling the truth difficult. Not him. The truth was the only real way to go. Lying rarely served a purpose other than as an extended exercise in self-deception. One thing he did his best to never do was deceive himself. But, there were the statistical outliers on his ease of doing curve. Being social with other people was one of them. He was still up in the air about whether these outliers were relevant. It _was_ a form of anthropology or psychology, which _hardly_ counted as science. Any conclusions drawn from the data were automatically suspect. Of course, the math wasn't wrong, just because it was based on the mushy end of probability. Practically into the realm of witch doctors and religion when it came to explaining anything. But math was one of the few things he could count on to tell the truth. If the math didn't work it wasn't because the math was lying, but because the math just didn't fit the circumstances. Like attempting to use relativity equations to calculate the necessary speed for a simple airplane to break the pull of gravity and earn the desired lift. Relativity equations weren't wrong, they just didn't fit. The conclusions from mushy probability were no doubt wrong. How can correct conclusions be drawn from a science that decides that statistical outliers have no effect on the outcome? If someone had decided that the earth was flat because _most of the time_ it looked flat, well, that would be stupid. Just as stupid as deciding that everything he did was easy because _most of the time_ , it was. Hence, the entirely correct assumption that soft sciences weren't to be trusted. But that didn't solve his problem. He was still used to things being simple enough to do, from fixing a leaky faucet all the way to building a working model of an atomic bomb in the basement. Too bad there hadn't been any plutonium available, then it wouldn't have been simply a model.

As much as he hated to admit it, there were things he couldn't do easily. He gave up on the piano because he couldn't do it easily. Oh, the techniques were simple enough and all of his finger exercises only made the work elegant. But the passion part, he couldn't do that. He didn't understand how to do it. So he couldn't play the piano, not as he'd dreamed of, easily. If he'd had an idea, or even a glimmering of an idea, as to how to go about making passionate music, then he never would have given it up. But technical expertise wasn't enough. He wanted the passion, too.

The latest thing that he couldn't do easily, or at all, actually, was watch Sheppard flirt with the female aide that the big wig Pentagon general had brought along with him to Pegasus. Not even a full year, Earth-time, in Pegasus and the Pentagon was in their business, questioning every decision that anyone ever made. Luckily, he didn't have to put up with the nitwit or the nitwit's nitwit. Not like Sheppard had to. He'd taken all the hurt and anger he'd been feeling for the previous three days on the general, who had then slunk from his lab like a fluffy purse dog with his tail between his legs. The general had gone on to make Sheppard's life hell, but that was okay with Rodney. Sheppard was making his life hell by flirting with that stupid woman.

He'd thought Sheppard had better taste than that.

But it hurt. And Rodney did his best to never be in a position where he could see it. Sure, he knew they'd never be anything but good friends. Well, not until later, when either the stupid US military pulled their collective heads out of their collective asses and joined the new millennium instead of wallowing around in the Dark Ages, or they both retired. Rodney's current plan, once Sheppard had thoroughly vetoed the blackmail scenario with logic too good to argue with, was to retire on Atlantis with Sheppard as a lab assistant. He spent time every single day reminding the man that he had to get his PhD yesterday. He was getting one in _engineering_. Peh. That fluffy Czech bastard was loving the hell out of this, at Rodney's expense. Zelenka was Sheppard's advisor, along with that whiny bitch Kusanagi, who wasn't even an _engineer_. The other part of Sheppard's committee was some idiot at the Air Force Academy, who couldn't possibly understand a thing they were doing out there, but had the clearance to read anything Sheppard wrote. At least they'd had the time for Sheppard to take the necessary classes and sit for his comprehensive exams before they'd returned to Pegasus. That reminded him.

Rodney put down the dry erase marker he'd been using to work on ZedPM calculations and flicked his headset. "Colonel! You'd better not be slacking off on your diss. I _will_ make you suffer."

Rodney waited for the usual whiny commentary. Nothing.

"Sheppard!"

"Not now, McKay." Sheppard's voice was taut and had a growly undertone that meant he was clenching his teeth.

"Oh for, what the hell is wrong with you _now_?"

"Sheppard out." 

Rodney glared at the whiteboard full of some of the best math he'd ever done, if he did say so himself. That was weird. Normally, he'd go straight to wherever Sheppard was hiding out at and find out was going on, but these days, where Sheppard was the stupid woman was, and Rodney couldn't handle watching the love of his life flirt with someone other than himself. It was one of the very few things Rodney couldn't do easily. Or well at all, actually. He couldn't play the role of best friend for the guy he loved while the guy he loved did whatever it took to prove he wasn't gay.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell had been repealed for _three_ years. Wasn't that enough time for those idiots in Washington D.C. to figure out that it was _okay_ to be gay? Apparently not.

Rodney perched himself on a stool and pretended to be thinking about the ZedPM calculations until his brain shifted from the sheer level of idiocy, enough idiocy to create its own singularity of higher brain function destroying density, of the upper echelons of the US military to base eight math.

A few hours later, Sheppard slouched into the lab and lounged on the stool Rodney had long since abandoned. Rodney ignored him in favor of the work on the board, but he did catch enough of Sheppard's posture to note that Sheppard was unhappy. Since Sheppard didn't say anything, Rodney continued to work.

After another hour or so of silence, Rodney decided he was at a good stopping point and capped the marker. It was running dry anyway. He turned to glare at Sheppard. "Well?"

Sheppard sighed.

"Spit it out, Colonel."

"They're rotating me out."

What? " _What?!_ "

"It's standard operating procedure for the military, Rodney." Sheppard didn't take his eyes off the floor. "We're stationed in one place for a while, and then we go to another place. I'm being given command of the squadron at Area 51. Colonel Ferretti is coming here to take over."

All of it. The whole thing. Was it for nothing? "No. Absolutely not! You are not allowed to go."

"There'll be a change of command when the Apollo comes again. We've got about six weeks."

Rodney felt himself getting a little light headed, but since his fingers weren't cold, he didn't think it was time to worry about shock. "I, but, did we do something wrong?"

Sheppard's lips smiled, but it was painful to look at. "No. I guess I thought that they wouldn't PCS me. O'Neill was in charge of SG-1 for 7 years. Then he was in charge of the SGC for another year before he went to the Pentagon. I guess I thought that I'd get to do that here."

"But...." Rodney couldn't think of anything to say. This was, it was unthinkable.

"It's a promotion, Rodney." Sheppard's lips quirked up again, then pulled down at the edges. "I'm getting stars."

"They can promote you if they want. You can be a general here. I-we need you _here_. We're still at war with the wraith!"

"Ferretti hasn't had command and he's way past due. He'll be here for two years and then they'll rotate him into Area 51. I'll probably get the SGC from there. Then, in two years, I'll take O'Neill's place and Ferretti will get the SGC. Mitchell's got the SGC right now. They've finally figured out how to put the SGC in synch with regular duty. They don't want anyone who hasn't seen active alien combat in charge of the SGC anymore. Landry, well, they weren't impressed with his work."

Rodney had no idea what to say. "Oh."

"Ferretti's a good guy. He's fought jaffa, goa'uld, the Ori, replicators, and the usual run of hostile natives. He'll do a good job here."

"I don't want you to go."

Sheppard looked up at him, the hazel irises glowing a bit with the background of reddened lids and a sheen of wetness over them. "Me neither, buddy." Sheppard's voice cracked on the second to last syllable.

Sheppard's shoulders slumped.

"So don't go." Rodney said. "You've got six weeks until the change of command. You can finish your dissertation and get your laurels. Then retire and I'll hire you. You can help Zelenka."

Sheppard smiled. "I can't."

"Oh no you don't. You can."

"We need me at the SGC."

"Oh no we don't. We need you here."

Sheppard shook his head. "As the military commander, yes. Not as a civilian. Ferretti will have enough problems settling in if the troops are always looking to me."

"He'll deal with it."

"Besides, we don't need someone worse than Landry at the SGC. I know what kind of support you'll need out here." Sheppard took a deep breath. "I'll know what kind of support we all need in the Milky Way."

"Why does it have to be _you_? Larry can do it."

"Lorne's getting SG2."

"He's _got_ AG2!"

"Rodney."

"No! Not after we—just no."

Sheppard stood up and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rodney."

Rodney was too busy just trying to breathe to stop Sheppard from leaving.

***

Rodney had dithered for six weeks and three days. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. He'd been Chief of Science on Atlantis for just over eight years. Zelenka hadn't made any noises about stupid things like _promotions_. He was happy enough to be a part of the team and get regular deliveries of French vodka—and that was honestly weird—with every Apollo trip. None of his people had made promotion noises. Some left because they couldn't deal with the alienness of it all, but the ones who stayed? They didn't want to leave, even if it meant being third or fourth banana.

Rodney had stood with the few civilians that had turned out for the change of command ceremony. Sheppard, looking like a supermodel in his dress blue uniform, had formally handed over the keys to the military part of the city to Ferretti, who still looked like a weasel even in his dress blues. Sheppard had given a short speech, something no doubt emotionally gut wrenching, but Rodney hadn't listened. Ferretti had given a longer speech, something no doubt moronic and stupid, but Rodney hadn't listened. He'd watched Sheppard pointedly stare at a wall when he wasn't at the podium being charming, the same kind of charming he used whenever he had to deal with the Genii. Rodney knew, in the middle of the speech Ferretti was giving to prove precisely how stupid he was, that he, Rodney, was going to do something drastic. He just wasn't sure what. Not then.

Later, in the office that belonged to the rat faced replacement for Woolsey, Marilyn or Madeline, or something, where a handful of people, including that moronic Pentagon general and his equally moronic aide, watched said moronic Pentagon general officially promote Sheppard to brigadier general. Oh, Rodney knew this was a huge moment for Sheppard. Most colonels never made it past colonel. It was common for officers to retire as majors, lieutenant colonels, and colonels. It was less common to get to general. It was a huge moment for Rodney. Even more of a moment than Ferretti's stupid speech. That hadn't seemed real. None of it had seemed real. Not until that stupid general had taken two star pins from the simpering aide and replaced the colonel bird pins with general pins. 

Time stopped. Without a time dilation field, even. Rodney couldn't take his eyes from those stars. He finally got it. Finally understood something very, very vital. Sheppard had made a choice. He'd had a choice to make that Rodney hadn't even been aware of, and he'd made that choice. Without asking Rodney. John Sheppard would always belong to Uncle Sam. He would never belong to Rodney McKay. Sheppard had chosen. And it wasn't him.

The idiot Pentagon general clicked the backing on the second, star pin. 

Rodney then knew precisely what he would do.

The idiot Pentagon general and his insipid aide saluted John Sheppard. Everyone in the room, except for Rodney, clapped.

Rodney turned on his heel and left the room. Even someone as socially inept as Rodney McKay knew when there was a choice to be made. He might not understand social dynamics, or care to even begin to try, but he did know that sometimes, you had to make choices between people. He ignored Sheppard's startled and somewhat annoyed snap of "Rodney!" and the murmurs of people brushing off his not-unusual behavior. He went straight to his lab and the white boards full of equations. 

He stared at them for what seemed a long time. He understood them in ways that he'd never understood playing the piano, as technically expert at the instrument as he was. He touched his finger to an exponent. He understood this math. And he loved this math.

He picked up an eraser and wiped the boards clean. All of them. A moment later, he dug up a bottle of whiteboard cleaner, even though it was a ridiculous product that stripped the writing surface of the whiteboard and made them difficult to use without using another product to resurface the boards, and he meticulously cleaned the boards, until they were nothing but brightly white. Since he'd always made certain his boards never faced the security cameras, he didn't have to worry about erasing any of the footage. He looked around the lab, but decided that the only personal belongings he needed to take with him were the two laptops he'd brought from Earth and his coffee. They could keep his powerbars.

In his quarters, he typed up a quick letter of resignation, emailed it to Marty or whatever with a cc to Zelenka, and then packed the things he'd need to take home with him. His laptops and backups. The notebooks he wrote in. A few texts and journals. His uniform jacket. His coffee. His three sets of civilian clothes. All of his underwear. The picture of the cat he'd left behind to come to Atlantis all those years ago. The blanket that he'd gotten from an Athosian woman in exchange for making a better loom for her. The windchimes Teyla had made from broken crystals. He looked around the room, at the uniforms, the boots, the signs of the life that belonged to an intergalactic explorer. None of those really belonged to him anymore. He left his things on his bunk, neatly stacked for transport.

He skipped the farewell party for Sheppard happening in the mess in favor of finishing things. He stopped by the gateroom to hail the Apollo. Ellis needed to know he had an extra passenger. He didn't want to get left behind. He needed to make sure everything was in order for Zelenka to take over, so that meant an hour or so in the labs making sure any notes on his open experiments were up to date.

After that, he figured he couldn't put it off any more. He went to the party to explain to Mary that he'd resigned, effective as soon as the Apollo was beaming people up to leave. Mary didn't take it well at all. He corralled Zelenka, who wasn't as tipsy as Rodney thought he'd be. But he was tipsy enough that his outrage was easy to redirect. He left Zelenka yelling at Marsha. All that was left were Teyla and Ronon. 

That stopped him short. He'd never see them again. Well, most likely never. They belonged here, in Pegasus, their home. He was going to Earth. It was amazing that they took it so well. He didn't. He all but wrapped himself around Teyla and blubbered like a baby. He didn't want to go. He didn't want Sheppard to go. He wanted them to all stay here, like they were supposed to, and be a family or friends or whatever. Sheppard would tell the marines what to do. Ronon would scare the marines. Teyla would be wise. He would make last minutes breakthroughs that would save all their lives in between his ZedPM research. And they'd all be happy here. But Sheppard was leaving. And Ronon spent his time with Amelia. And Teyla lived on the mainland. Ronon and Teyla were married to other people, but they were still _here_. They were still part of the team. Sheppard hadn't chosen them. He'd chosen to leave. He hadn't chosen Rodney.

"I wish you all the best, my friend," Teyla said. She was smiling the sad little smile that said she'd known this was coming for a while. "Please let us know how you are doing, if you can."

"Don't forget to exercise," Ronon said.

"I will and I won't." Rodney tried not to sniffle. "I can write and you can get one of the anthropologists to read it to you since I won't be able to write in Ancient. That'll give those useless idiots something to do."

"I will miss you."

"I'll miss you, too." Rodney said. "Even you, Conan."

Ronon swept him up in a hug that crushed all of the air out of him.

Rodney beat him weakly on the shoulders. "Lemme go, you overgrown ape!"

Ronon ruffled his hair. "Come see us if you can."

Rodney sneered. "My first order of business will be to build a ship just so I can do that."

"Good."

"It's called sarcasm, King Kong."

"Rodney?" Sheppard said, coming up behind him. "What the hell?"

"Well, hello, Colonel."

"General."

Rodney shrugged. "Whatever."

"You're giving up Atlantis?" Sheppard looked around suspiciously, then lowered his voice. "For me?"

"No."

"General Caruthers already told me there was no room for you at Area 51 or the SGC unless you wanted to be one of the lab rats."

Rodney sighed. "I'm leaving the program."

Sheppard looked shocked.

Rodney squared his shoulders and looked Sheppard straight in the eye. Wow, this took more courage than it did to walk into that black energy sucking mass back in the first year. "You made a choice for yourself. It's time I made some choices for myself, too."

Sheppard grabbed him by the sleeve and towed him toward one of the walls away from most of the partiers. "But you love it here."

Rodney shrugged. "I did. But now it's time for me to move on to other things." He smiled fondly at Ronon and Teyla, standing side by side across the room. "Teyla's got two boys now. Ronon's a father. You're getting promoted. It's time that I got my own life, too. We're a family, but families don't live together forever. I have to go and make my own family."

Sheppard paled. "You're going back to Jennifer?"

Rodney laughed. It was an ugly sound. "No. She's not what I'm looking for. I'm going to go find myself a lab and do pure, theoretical research. Zelenka can keep the city going."

"But what about in four years, when I'm done at the SGC and—"

Rodney barked another laugh. "You'll be heading to the Pentagon to head up Homeworld Security. They'll _need_ you."

"Rodney," Sheppard said softly. He shoved his hand through his hair. "I thought you understood."

Rodney sighed. "I do understand."

"Then why are you doing this? Why are you punishing yourself? Me? Are you trying to force me or the Pentagon into making—" Sheppard waved his hands. "—some kind of concession?"

"I'm not. I'm doing this for _myself_." Rodney looked around the room. "You made a choice, Sheppard. You chose to take care of the world. You'll always choose to do that because that's who you are. I'm making a choice, too. I'm choosing pure research over Atlantis."

"But you can do that here, and I can come back someday and—"

"No." Rodney shook his head. "I can't do that here. Here, I have to put fighting the wraith and fixing the city first. I'm years behind in the research I want to do because I've spent so much time either saving us from certain doom or fixing grounding stations. I don't want to go all over the galaxy looking for a ZedPM. I want to make my own. I can't do that here."

"Ferretti'll be for your research, just as much as I was, am."

Rodney grimaced out his best smile. "Even if he wanted to, he won't. I'm a resource he has to use. Just like I'm a resource you had to use." Rodney shrugged. "I didn't like drowning or starving, either. It was okay for a while, but now it's time for me to go, too. You're moving on to bigger and better things, just like Ronon and Teyla have. And now, so am I."

Sheppard took a deep breath. "I don't want you to go."

"We both know that the only reason you want me here is so that you can pretend you have a place to come back to someday. I may not know people very well, but I know people well enough to know that someday you won't come back because someday, while you're saving the universe, you'll forget why you wanted to come back. It's the way people work."

"I won't."

"You will. Everyone does." Rodney offered a bright smile. "Besides, I'll be on the same planet with you. You'd better invite me to your graduation when you get that PhD."

"Yeah," Sheppard chuckled, even if it sounded watery. "I'll do that."

"I have to say goodbye to Teyla and Conan there, because I'll probably never get to come back to Pegasus," Rodney said. "But it's not like I have to say goodbye to you. We'll be on the same planet. Same continent. Maybe even in the same time zone and country."

Sheppard shoved his hand through his hair again. It stuck up in a million different directions again, now free from whatever chemical constraints he'd used that morning to tame it. "It feels like goodbye."

Rodney shrugged. It probably was goodbye. While everything had changed, nothing had changed. Sheppard still wasn't free to be openly gay because of his stupid, backwards nation's Medieval way of thinking. As long as that was the status quo, Rodney couldn't really be around him often, not if Sheppard continued to feel it was necessary to hide his sexuality.

"When I retire, I'll look you up," Sheppard said.

Rodney shrugged again. Generals in the US military never really retired. They just didn't work anymore.

Sheppard lowered his voice again. "I'll wait for you."

Rodney smiled thinly. Maybe Sheppard would wait. Maybe Sheppard would find it necessary to get a wife of some kind to keep playing the straight card and maintain his career.

Sheppard's eyes darted around for a moment, then settled on Rodney's. "I love you."

It was the second time he'd ever heard Sheppard say that, though Sheppard had made it perfectly clear every single day that he felt that way. Rodney smiled a bit more. "I love you, too."

"Four years, Rodney," Sheppard said. "I'm done."

"Yeah, four years."

The Pentagon general's pale, little aide wandered up and put a hand on Sheppard's arm. She simpered up at him and then smiled at Rodney. Rodney sneered at her. "General Sheppard," she said. "I look forward to getting to know you a bit better on the trip home. We'll have a lot to discuss with your new command."

"I'm sure we will, Major."

"Dr. McKay," she said.

"Insipid twit," Rodney replied in the same tone.

She sniffed in disdain. 

"Now play nice, Rodney," Sheppard said. "Major Porter is the Pentagon liaison."

He rolled his eyes. "Isn't that Darvis's job?"

"Davis. He retired." Sheppard smirked. "She's going to make sure that Radek and Miko will be in Colorado next trip the Apollo makes. I'm going to defend. You are, of course, invited, but only if you promise not to hurt the feelings of the other scientists."

Rodney flapped a hand, as if he couldn't be bothered to spare anyone's feelings, but inside he was secretly delighted. "Fine. I'll tolerate whatever rampant stupidity there is, but only once, Colonel."

"It's General Sheppard," the twit said.

"It's the McKay way, Major. He'll start calling me general sometime next year."

Rodney smirked. "When you've actually earned it."

"I've got the stars."

Rodney let himself let go just enough to give Sheppard a manly fist bump on the shoulder, like he'd seen the marines do. He figured even the most homophobic general couldn't see anything sexual in that. "See, Colonel? I told you this wasn't really goodbye. You'll be in Nevada pretending that your hair isn't an entity all on its own. I'll be in a lab somewhere. We can send Christmas cards."

Sheppard smiled, a genuinely happy smile. "You hate Christmas."

"Any holiday that requires a person to buy presents is a ridiculous holiday."

Sheppard grinned. "You're just saying that because you suck at buying presents. You can come to Nevada and I'll help you get presents for Jeannie, Maddie, and Caleb."

"The _English_ major."

"Yup, him."

Rodney stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'm off. I want to say goodbye to a few people and then I have to make sure those imbeciles on the Apollo don't do something stupid with my things."

"See on board."

Rodney smiled. "See you around."

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, having Sheppard as a friend on Earth. They could see each other a few times a year. Do friend things. Maybe he could even call him John again.

Maybe, he thought as he said his final goodbyes to the very few people on Atlantis that mattered, in a year or two he'd build a ZedPM and the US military would do so much kissing of his ass that he could have sex with Sheppard in the middle of the Pentagon's courtyard and the only thing they'd ever do about it would be to congratulate Sheppard with another promotion. And then maybe Sheppard could finally choose him.


	3. In Seattle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney has settled down in one time zone, the one with plenty of good coffee and easy food, to work on his theories. John is at Area 51. Something has to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post-season 5. Months after That DADT Thing 2.

Rodney had been settled in his new place for less than two whole months. The weather in Seattle was atrocious, of course. It rained. Constantly. Or constantly enough that he usually got wet during a run to the coffee shop a few blocks over. He'd bought a cavernous old house with too many levels near the University of Washington. He tried renting, but all that was available were full of college students looking for roommates. As it was, it had taken nearly eight weeks for the contractors to make the place habitable. It was a good thing he had money from his years doing nothing with his pay but stockpiling it and having the _English_ major's brother invest it. He had the basement area converted into a decent enough lab and the first floor turned into comfortable enough living space. He left the top floor unfinished since he had no use for it. It was no Atlantis, but then, what was? Still, the place was comfortable, close enough to U of W's library, which was a joke, coffee, several kinds of take out, and a store that stocked a wonderful variety of frozen foods. The lab had its own mini-fridge and coffee maker. The white boards were not only numerous, but perfectly surfaced. No stray lab invader—like Simpson!—to sneak in and clean them off with that alcohol based spray. Even better, he had two cats. He'd never had two cats before. It was a stretch to get them both, but he did. Unfortunately, he'd named them incorrectly and by the time he'd figured out their personalities, it was too late. The tortoiseshell that spent most of his day snoozing in random, sunny places guaranteed to trip the unwary physicist and change the outcome of the afternoon was Entropy and the Russian Blue that destroyed everything in some predetermined path that only made sense to a cat, when he was awake, was Chaos. He should have named them Sheppard and Colonel, but that was really too love sick, even for him.

Still, he was comfortable. He had companionship that didn't annoy him with stupid questions. He had the world's best coffee available in the varieties and quantities a genius of his stature deserved. He had the Seattle Symphony Orchestra for a few evenings out. He had a lot of food. And, because he knew Ronon would kill him, he had the nearby, botanical garden-free Ravenna Park where he could walk briskly every morning. There was a treadmill for the days he didn't feel like going out. He might have pudged slightly around the middle the first few weeks in his new quarters, but he was slowly slimming that off. He made sure, in his bi-weekly emails through the SGC, to make sure that Teyla knew to tell Ronon that he was getting real exercise.

The best part, the white boards were filling with equations. The math sung in ways that even Bach's soaring chorales couldn't compete with. If he'd had the least inkling on how to drum up the passion required, he might have considered doing a little composing to express the math in terms even idiots could understand.

Not that he'd ever let the idiots see his work. His security kept out the NID goons that tried to pretend they weren't watching him from a sedan a half-block away. Nothing like an electric barrier similar to the one that had kept Steve or Bob or whatever idiot name Shepp-John had called the wraith prisoners. Of course, his ran on a small naqahdah generator rather than the city's ZedPM. Not that he'd _ever_ let on that he had such a thing. He let them go through his mail, not that the morons could read, let alone understand a thing in his journals. Not that his journals were that interesting any more—hello, ex-Chief Scientist of Atlantis here—but it was nice to see what the uninformed plebes in physics were up to these days. He let them tap his phone and his cell phone, pretending that he didn't know they were listening in to his highly exciting regular orders for delivery and to yell at the Dish Network guy. He considered hijacking the signal, but he really didn't want that kind of attention, that is, if Sam Carter had any interest in spending any time looking for hijackers of Rodney's caliber. Kusarigi couldn't do it, she was in another galaxy and the wormhole wasn't open long enough for her to go mucking around with consumer satellite subscriptions.

They couldn't get into his lair and they couldn't see into his lair, but he kept them happy by living a normal, quiet life. Kept himself pretty happy, too. And, if he brought home a piece of material every now and then to build a miniature ferris wheel for his cats, who was to bother him for a human sized one in the back yard. When the wheel was done, he'd leave the curtains open so the goons could take pictures to plot over. The cats would have something interesting to sleep on. And he'd come up with another project, perhaps a miniature helicopter that he could use to plant bugs on the goons' cars. He had a great life.

He stood in front of the white board he was working with, hands clasped behind his back, a marker twitching in his fingers, a cat twining around his ankles, and decided he would be satisfied. Things were coming along. He'd caught his most recent mistake in the math, everything was elegant again, and he figured that he'd buy dinner from the Italian place tonight. He took a deep breath and sighed. It was a contented one. That's the kind of sigh that satisfied people like him had. That's what he was. Contented. Satisfied. That was him.

He figured that if he ever had the chance, he'd visit the SGC with a fresh, real lasagna from that Italian place in Colorado Springs, that way he could send it through the stargate to Ronon, who would appreciate it.

He had some tea for Teyla ready for the next Apollo run. He had some for that Kusagini woman, a nice green imported from Japan. He had a vodka for Zelenka that the liquor store owner swore was heads above the usual French rotgut Zelenka had delivered. He had a set of knives for Ronon that cost him what the bathroom remodel had cost. Maybe he should have bought a cake or something, but Ronon would certainly appreciate a good knife better than anyone else. These things were all packaged, ready to be shipped to Atlantis. He put in a regular call to the SGC so they would know they had to ship it. He made sure to give them precise measurements and the weight, plus the optimal storage temperature because of the tea. If Kusagiri's tea was ruined, there would be hell to pay.

Sitting at the top of his bookcase upstairs, the one holding all the books, magazines, and DVDs he never actually opened, was a model of a Blackhawk, just like the one She-John had flown in Antarctica. He'd seen it and got it, before realizing that, one, it wouldn't fit in the box he'd gotten to ship his don't-blow-up-my-city presents and, two, Sh-John was in Nevada. But that was okay, he still had the receipt.

He sat on his stool and stared at the white board, not really seeing the math. Entropy jumped up onto a counter, knocking one of his notebooks to the floor, and settled in for a lengthy grooming. If he was so content, satisfied, why did he do this every day? Somewhere in the horse latitudes of the afternoon? Sheppard— _John_ had made his choices and so had he. It was what it was. 

Disgusted, he put the marker down and went upstairs. He'd never get anything done if all he was going to do was moon over Sheppard _again_. Besides, his equations were much better looking than the Colonel, plus they were naked. Well, if equations could be said to be naked. He'd never really seen the Colonel with his shirt off, let alone naked.

A bit later, he was sitting in his recliner, a thumb on the frame advance button of the remote and his right hand holding a pencil poised over a paper on the clipboard. He intended to plot the equation of the parabola for the stupid Hail Mary pass of Sh-John's, just to see if he could do it without computer aided imaging. He was in the middle of trying to decide what precise angle the ball had from the ground, which was difficult considering the poor image quality, when the knock came at the door. He ignored it. The Italian food had been delivered, eaten, and put away for later. The NID goons would have to get their jollies elsewhere. He was busy. The knocking went on for a while, but he was a genius. Ignoring morons was a skill he was rather proud of. He advanced the frame to see if the next shot seemed to confirm his guess on the angle. He eyed the ball-ground relationship and tried to decide how he would get the precise measureme—

His phone rang. He frowned at the caller ID. She-John? He picked it up. "This had better not be one of you NID goons."

"It's not. Just open the door Rodney. It's _raining_."

"Sheppard?"

"Who else? Open the door!"

Rodney pulled the phone from his ear to glare at it. He stuck back to his head. "Sheppard?"

"I thought you were a genius. Open the door. It's not rocket science. You just go to the door, turn the knob, and pull."

Rodney pushed the recliner back into its chair shape and stood. "You're in Seattle?"

"I'm at your front door."

Rodney gaped at the door. 

"It's raining. On me. Could you hurry?"

Rodney scrambled to the door, shut down the shield, and opened the door. Sure enough, Shep-John stood there, soaked, and shivering. He blinked, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

"Can I come in?" Sh-John sounded annoyed.

"But I'm not finished yet!"

"Rodney."

"Oh, oh! Yes. Come in." He frowned at the dripping uniform with the general stars. "What are you doing out there? It's raining, you idiot!"

Sh-John sighed and stepped inside. Rodney glared at the unmarked sedan parked in his neighbor's driveway. He could dimly make out two white faces watching him. He slammed the door shut and turned the shield back on.

"Do I even want to know what you just did?" Sh-John asked.

"I might have a shield up. To keep the NID goons out, of course." Rodney dithered between offering a towel or a cup of coffee. "What are you doing here?"

She-John smiled a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, do you mind if I dry off a bit? Then we can talk. This, ah, isn't quite how I pictured things." He gestured at his uniform. "Dripping."

Rodney stared at him suspiciously for a few moments, long enough for Sh-John to fidget. "Fine. The bathroom's that way. I have some sweats or something you can wear."

Shep-John lifted a bag up into Rodney's line of sight. "Got it covered, buddy."

"Well then."

"Be right out."

Rodney stood there for a minute or two, perhaps more, after Sh-John disappeared into his bathroom. Eventually, he shook himself. "Huh," he said, because he couldn't think of a dammed thing, then headed into the kitchen to put more coffee on.

Sh-John eased into the kitchen a few minutes later, decked out in a pair of tight blue jeans and a wrinkled, silk, button-down shirt. Sh-John brushed at the wrinkles. "Hey," She-John said.

"Um, hey," Rodney replied and vaguely wondered if every brain cell he owned, except for two, had taken a sudden sabbatical without proper notification.

"I bet you're wondering why I'm here."

Rodney nodded.

John rubbed the back of his neck again. "You're kind of quiet."

Rodney glared. "I'm surprised."

"Um, yeah, sorry about that."

"I don't like surprises unless they're chocolate or extremely good coffee."

"I know, Rodney. I, um, hope you'll like this one."

Rodney gestured.

"I missed you."

Rodney nodded, feeling the usual peeved-at-stupidity sensation crawling up his spine. "Of course. You sign all of your emails that way."

Sh-John stood there silently for a minute. He had the same look on his face as he did the day he all but strapped himself to the back of a nuclear weapon, shoddily constructed by the Genii and therefore leaking radiation everywhere despite the brilliant but still hasty fixes by one Rodney McKay, to ride it all the way into a Wraith hive. Rodney suddenly felt nervous.

Sheppa-John squared his shoulders. "Rodney, I came here because I have to tell you—"

"Oh God, the wraith are almost here and you're going to fly a nuclear weapon into the hive. I knew it! You idiot! It wouldn't be that hard to launch a three stage ICBM from space! If it doesn't have to fight gravity, it will go far enough to hit a hive!"

Sh-John quirked his endearing yet oh so annoying half-smile. "It's not the wraith. It's about me."

"You're dying?"

"Nope."

"Sick?"

"Nope."

"Well, what is it?"

The smile had grown a bit. "I just wanted to apologize to you, Rodney."

Huh? "Apologize?"

"Yes. I made the wrong choice. It was really pretty stupid of me, but I thought it was for the best at the time, but it's not. I hope that it's not too late for me to make the right choice."

Rodney frowned. "Choice?" He was starting to feel like an idiot undergraduate that could only parrot his betters.

"I didn't pick you. I should have picked you." Sh-John took a few steps forward, until he was bare toes to slippers with Rodney. "The universe is really, really important, but it doesn't mean anything if I don't have you."

It took, embarrassingly enough, a few outraged breaths on his part for that to sink in. Sheppard was picking _him_ over saving everybody. Rodney's heart got stuck in his throat and then dropped to his stomach. He couldn't decide if he should yell or throw up.

Sh-John took one of Rodney's hands between his. "I love you, Rodney."

"You aren't sticking to the plan!" Yelling apparently won. "I had four years to get ready for this! For the day when you'd show up and apologize because you had to take the position at Homeworld Security because everyone needed you and then I'd tell you I'd done it and you'd ask what and then I'd show you and I'd show all those idiots at the Pentagon and then they'd _have_ to kiss my ass and we could have sex in the courtyard of the Pentagon if we wanted to and all they'd do about it is promote you!"

"Um, do what?"

"Finish making a ZedPM."

Sh-John blinked. "You're making a ZPM?"

Rodney scrunched his face up. "No, you idiot. I need more time. I'm not to the design stage, just yet."

"Oh." Sh-John suddenly smiled. "It doesn't matter. If you want to have sex in the courtyard of the Pentagon, we can. Even without the ZPM. I don't care if they fire me or promote me to the general in charge of toilet paper inventory. They can't kick me out and even if they did, it wouldn't matter."

This didn't make any sense. He didn't have a ZedPM. Sh-John was being particularly dense. that must be it. "But—"

"The biggest mistake I ever made was not asking you to move to Nevada with me."

This was like adding one and one and coming up with eleven, but not in binary. "But, the four years. . . ."

John's hands came up to cup Rodney's cheeks. "I never should have asked you to wait those years for me. I should have asked you to come with me. I love you, Rodney."

"I don't understand," Rodney confessed at his quietest whisper. There were very few things he didn't understand. Women, for one, Jennifer in particular. He didn't understand why people were so consistently stupid that they believed planetary alignments and constellations could predict personality traits or the future. He never understood the attraction to pointless pop music that sounded like repetitive candy. However, he had, not quite thirty minutes ago, before the phone rang, thought he fully understood John Sheppard.

John smiled, which crinkled the corners of his eyes. "It's not hard to understand. I'm not choosing the universe or the air force anymore. I'm choosing you. You don't need to make a ZPM because I'm choosing you and I'm going to keep choosing you. It's killing me to be in Nevada without you. It was okay on Atlantis because I still had you, but not now."

"But I want to make a ZedPM." Well that was a brilliant thing to say.

"Then make one, but for you."

Rodney frowned. "Of course I'm going to make one. And then those idiots at the Pentagon will have to kiss my ass."

John pressed his forehead to Rodney's. "And they'll have to kiss your ass because your brilliant and you're Rodney, not because you want to force them to give up their homophobia."

"They won't give you the SGC. You know that."

John shrugged. "I'll have you. You can build me my own SGC."

"I am a genius."

"My genius."

"I'll still build the ZedPM."

"Of course you will."

"And then I'll make them give you the SGC."

John leaned forward a bit, until they were breathing the same air. It wasn't as romantic as it seemed, as there was too much carbon dioxide and not enough oxygen. "Of course you will."

"No need to be insulting, Colonel."

"I'm a general, Rodney." John sounded breathless and, dare he say it? Almost girlish.

Rodney's eyes narrowed. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Are you a member of Mensa?"

"I have a PhD in math. You were there when I defended. You asked questions when you promised you wouldn't so I almost didn't get my PhD. You were there when I graduated."

Rodney waved a hand, smacking John in the pointy elbow entirely by accident. "I only kiss Mensa members. I have my standards."

John sighed that only you sigh of his. The one that always made Rodney feel humored and patronized. "I passed the test, McKay."

Rodney lifted his chin. "Passing isn't the same as being, Colonel."

John was frowning now, Rodney could feel the pull of it against his own forehead. "You would have kissed me in Atlantis."

"Well, I wasn't well on my way to making a ZedPM then."

"You know this is ridiculous."

Rodney sniffed.

"Fine!" John stomped away, off into the living room, where he plucked a laptop from the coffee table.

Rodney chased him, reaching for the laptop. "Hey! Put that down!"

John ignored him and logged onto the internet. Rodney stuttered to a halt next to John and frowned. Google? Passe. John typed in mensa, clicked through a few links and started entering information into the membership admissions page. He included the credit card information, completely from memory, and then clicked send.

John put the laptop down with a flourish. "There. I'm on my way to being a member of Mensa. Happy?"

"Wait. That was my credit card number!"

"It's your hangup."

Rodney compressed his lips together for a second, then said, "You'd better be worth it."

John grinned. "Me and the sex toys I bought with your credit card."

"You what?!"

John leaned in to kiss him and this time, Rodney let him.

It should have been one of those happily ever after endings, though. It wasn't and it couldn't be. Rodney knew this. The hot Air Force colonel swoops in, in the nick of time, and sweeps the dazzlingly handsome genius off of his feet, and they go live happily ever after making kisses and baby ZedPMs. But, after the kissing ended, the logistics must turn up. Rodney had sunk too much money in his house to move until it sold. John lived at Edwards in the BOQ. While the government had done away with Don't Ask, Don't Tell _years_ ago, the whole same sex marriage thing was an issue. The Defense of Marriage Act was on its last legs, but the few states that gave civil liberties to same sex partners did so in such a way that these partnerships were only legal within that state. Domestic partnerships had _some_ federal benefits, but not the kind that got a gay general and his male physicist into family housing. Rodney didn't have enough money to move from Seattle to Las Vegas and John didn't have enough money to set them up in a house off base, not the kind of place that Rodney would need to do his work. 

There was simply no way in hell that Rodney would do a lick of ZedPM research at Area 51, so he wouldn't have the US government available to pay for his move. He would develop his own ZedPM. He would patent it globally. He would then make the Pentagon morons kiss his pale, Canadian ass. If he worked out of Area 51, then the Pentagon would take the patent right out from under him. Not happening.

So, even though Rodney was now embroiled in a steamy hot, passionate affair with a handsome, daredevil but no longer so cavalier with his life (probably because there wasn't much call for it at Area 51) general, he wasn't getting any. In fact, John had to leave the next day. The affair was going to be stuck at the phone sex level for the foreseeable future, until they could set up housekeeping in Las Vegas. That would be a while. Too long. 

But he did get to see John naked. He didn't get to see John doing math naked, but there was naked involved. And he finally got the nimrod to join Mensa like he should have. Rodney put the weekend tentatively in the "win" column.

It took almost a year to find a buyer for his house and then a suitable place to rent that he could properly refurbish in Vegas. The commute to Area 51 would halfway suck for John, but he had to commute to the library at UNLV, during the odd moments he needed reference material. He also had to put up with the stupid billboards promising people cash and fun to make porn. Rodney ignored those. During that long-distance almost-year, he'd commuted once a month to Vegas and John had commuted once a month to Seattle. Overall, not enough John-time, but he did get to spend some time with his math and a naked John checking his math at the same time.

Finally, though, _finally_ they lived together. His white boards were set up in a large building that used to be a four car garage. The cats could travel from the house to the lab through a connecting catwalk tunnel between two windows that he'd developed solely for this purpose. His cats would not be permitted to run around outside where they could get fleas, hit by cars, or chase dogs. The NID goons had rented the house across the street and three doors down as a base, but considering that they were based in something the idiot rental agency called "estate-ettes" that meant they were about a mile away.

Now that he had John in his life, every single day, Rodney didn't quite know what to do with himself every night when he got his second wind. Usually in Seattle, he'd heave himself out of his recliner and head to the basement with a cup of coffee. Now, he dithered at the coffeepot, trying to decide if he would do ground-breaking science or go snuggle. Sadly for the rest of the universe, which was not graced with his awesome genius, he usually chose to snuggle. John was a great snuggler, even with Chaos and Entropy demanding to be a part of the snuggling. And if tracing his latest ZedPM calculations all over John's bare chest while they were wrapped around each other in the sheets led to something more? Well, he wasn't going to complain. Ever.

The End


End file.
